


Reflective Fragments (Innocence tomb ~ Vol. 1 Project)

by Starlunaby



Series: Innocence Tomb ~ Vol. 1 [1]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul, persona - Fandom
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/F, Gen, Gore, Horror, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mystery, Other, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Sex, Sign Language, Strong Language, Thriller, Violent, fantasy/reality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21738604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlunaby/pseuds/Starlunaby
Summary: NOTE: This is a project for the upcoming novel, Reflective Fragments (Also known as Innocence Tomb - Vol. 1). This novel is an inspiration from Tokyo Ghoul and the Persona series (maybe ghibli as well?). There are no spoilers involved for any of the series, so no worries!. . ."On the path of malice, we stride.We order to seek the truth but collapsed on our tries.""We fall to our sins and succumb to our speckles of sweets,With one yearning choke, we are composed and averted from our baleful feasts.""The mirror is our friend, it reflects our gaze, it speaks the truth of the typical.Some are a form of betrayal and exposes our faze, the things people find despicable."• • •In the town far west of Japan is a village known as Himitsu-Tengoku. The land of the living differed to the threats of the cities. But what if there was more lurking beneath the soil of the earth, the roots of the trees, the fallen petals of the roses?There is more than we know, and we are too reluctant to unravel it...
Series: Innocence Tomb ~ Vol. 1 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566808
Kudos: 1





	1. ~ Prologue ~

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Sad Ukulele](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/541408) by Alex Stokke. 



The sound of reverberated chains and silent pleads echoed in the dark, empty rooms. The doors were secure, jammed tight. There were a pair of female Silhouettes confined in the room. One standing firmly still and facing the wall with her arms intertwined behind her back.  
The distinct prisoner's expression was steady, despite her existing situation. Locked down to the floor, scarcely dangling onto her body. Realistically, a soul would call for a fatal need of aid to break free.  
The room was virtually as silent as a breeze until the standing silhouette broke the alluring silence...  
"...Do you realise what you've done...?" she asks, just in a whisper.   
The prisoner impelled on the chains to glance up at the silhouette standing before her. Did she respond...or did she say something? The only sentence that came out of her foreign tongue was inscrutable...  
Whatever the prisoner meant; it simply sent a lustful of hostility through the cranium of the Silhouette. She bangs a singular high-heel boot onto the metal floor, vacating an echoing bang inside the room.  
"DO NOT LIE!! You did something... something foolish!" She screeches aggressively.  
Sighing, she shakes her head, breaking the control from her locked arms. She inhales... and exhales. "Have you heard of the Butterfly effect?" the Silhouette asks. "...The sensitive dependence on which a minor change in one state can result in significant differences in a later state?"   
She rests her eyes to the twitching of her hands, clicking her tongue in exasperation. "...I sense an ugly form inside your heart... just hunger... it's all you know and yearn. Your strength comes through dominance. It is not the true power of the sort, but the pure bliss of abusing energy..."  
The Silhouette paces around the room; arms crossed to her chest. The pitch of her vivid-sounding boots makes singular crochet beats whilst walking back and forth in restless loops, pondering her intentions as she uttered her words. "...You hunger for power and lack to see the truth in this world, as well as the reflected world ...."  
She resists to strolling around the room to fix her eyes on the prisoner. She crushes her hands into fists. "...I trusted you to do the right thing, and this is how you repay me...?"  
The shackled prisoner averts her gaze as she held onto the chains, causing her to kneel. She speaks again...  
The Silhouette felt anger boiling up inside her. She strives to remain rational by clutching onto her arms, but she was not certain if committing to curtailing her blood flow from her arms will prevent her from ripping her head. Whatever the prisoner was rehearsing to herself, it has something the Silhouette was not delighted or even impressed to give attention to from her repulsive mouth.   
Unexpectedly, she speaks natural, raw words.   
**"... I do not care what happens to this world... I'll let such creatures such as myself have fun..."**  
The silhouette could not confess if she were disgruntled... or growing malicious. A fading glimmer behind the bars flashes near her, uncovering a vague smirk on her face.   
She let out an eerie laugh. "...I knew I couldn't trust you... Atë. But perhaps your sister will do a much better job at doing your task and role..."  
"...I didn't bring you here just so you can chat and explain yourself... no... I came here to finish the job I was tasked to do..."  
She walks towards the corner of the room. In the corner was an item. When the silhouette jerked it up, it moulded the shape of an axe. She traces the tip of the sharp blade with a sense of satisfaction and turned next to the chained prisoner. She strode towards the prisoner... gradually.   
She traces the blade on her arm. 

  
Each scrap...

  
Each cut...

  
Each test to recall her of the forthcoming preparation when the deed has been completed. "You have broken the laws of our survival, my friend. Your broken shards cannot heal the wounds of regret you have created. You can no longer survive in our world, and therefore...  
Before she resumed, she stops mid-sentence...  
She hoists the axe high above her head, the sound of the forceful lift as smooth and as ear-piercing as chalk. The faded glimmer revisits the chamber once more, gleaming through the bars to see the woman's wistful green eyes.  
"...You must be executed..." she ends. She clicks her fingers with one singular hand, glaring down at the prisoner with a toxic stare, recollecting her of the soon to be departure to hell!  
The prisoner just merely hunches her head in favour, long wringing hair coating her face.   
The silhouette swung her axe and directs it to her neck. Before she could touch the crook of the bony neck, the prisoner lurches back within a limited time and she yanks the hefty chains towards the soon to be grounded axe.  
The chains split into two and leave behind an indelible clash in the room. As basic as cutting a restricted ribbon. The prisoner jumps back like a crouched monkey and her spine curved like an arch. She kept her whole body up with just the tip of her fingers and feet.   
The woman whirls her neck around, the sound of an inaudible 'CRACK' from the side of her neck. She scowls at the deposition prisoner, only answering back with a hissing sound.   
She urges herself back up on her feet, irrationally clenching onto the axe as she tempted to swing the axe again. She grunted along with an angry growl.  
Once again...  
The prisoner sprang back and shoves herself to the side of the smooth, icy walls. She lifts herself up, elevating her way up the ceiling like the arachnid she was. With every hand, she grips on and swerved her head upside down, swinging her body.

  
Back...  
And...  
Forth...

  
The prisoner continued to taunt her. If she were to chance another petulant swing, she will go blind before the light re-enters.   
The prisoner laughs maniacally. "You really are as absurd as I predicted. You're as stubborn as a goat, as prickly as a hedgehog, as annoying as a fly..."  
"SHUT UP, you Schwein! I WILL cut you down, I WILL execute you! I WILL do my order and do it flawlessly; regardless of the mess! I will pour your guts out, rip out your organs. I will tear off your gritted head and place it on a stick! I...I...!"  
"Wow..." The prisoner inaccurately acts. "You seemed so composed back before you held that bloody axe. Now your details are spilling out like tea. Your once sewn potty mouth has unravelled itself. But... Your activities sound entertaining."  
There was a moment of silence between the two beings. A juncture of staring into one another's eyes, trying to graze their mind. The prisoner shifts her wide torn lips. "Do you ever enjoy it?" she asks. "Because I know I will!"  
Without warning, the prisoner fell from the ceiling and pounced at the silhouette. Causing her body to tremble, she impulsively lifts the heavy weapon in front of her to deflect the rotten sharp teeth struggling to tear at her crown. She uses her strength to hurl the threat away from her and steps backwards, step by step becoming more apprehensive. She never expected this to have vast friction. This prisoner is nothing like the other outlaws lurking about.   
The prisoner crept up closer...  
...and closer to her, her head tilting laterally and twitching as if she has reached her limit. "If you want to harm me so badly... then fine." She falls backwards; for once standing up. She claps her hands. _Once..._  
"But I won't go down that easily..."

  
_And twice..._

  
"So, come on! Give me your finest attempt... Rochelle..."


	2. Koyo Yamamoto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "On the path of malice, we stride.  
> We order to seek the truth but collapsed on our tries."
> 
> "We fall to our sins and succumb to our speckles of sweets,  
> With one yearning choke, we are composed and averted from our baleful feasts."
> 
> "The mirror is our friend, it reflects our gaze, it speaks the truth of the typical.  
> Some are a form of betrayal and exposes our faze, the things people find despicable."
> 
> • • •
> 
> In the town far west of Japan is a village known as Himitsu-Tengoku. The land of the living differed to the threats of the cities. But what if there was more lurking beneath the soil of the earth, the roots of the trees, the fallen petals of the roses?
> 
> There is more than we know, and we are too reluctant to unravel it...

_My current progress so far... I feel optimistic and I think we may finally have a lead. I want to build up our progress and do whatever possible to prevent falling back to square one._

  
The time is 6:35 pm. I am currently driving at 60km per/hour, no sign of anyone driving past me. It almost seems odd. I usually see the same brand and the same bland colours of cars zooming past me like lightning every minute I drive. And believe me, it doesn't take long.  
I am making my way to a workshop on the outskirts of the city. The man I'm about to present myself to is, Kenzou Hibiki. He's age seventy-one, not married, and no children based on his information according to Maro. If I were, to be frank, my mind and body aren't looking forward to visiting a stranger. I'm not sure if I can call him a 'stranger' with all the details we've gathered. Although he doesn't know us, and we've never met properly in person. Maybe? You know what? strangers will do. I haven't been too keen on the idea of visiting him. I should be asking myself why. Well... it is due to his compulsive addiction with... pills.  
I forgot to mention that the man lives in his workshop and apparently, fixes and sells clocks and watches? I'm surprised he can make a profit out of by just making CLOCKS all day. Nowadays most people use sci-fi tech watches or just use their phones to look at the time or even search for the weather. While I prepared myself before this trip, I decided to bring my broken watch along to see if he can fix it for me. Perhaps I could get on his good side and hopefully, I can get his consent to question him (let's hope he hasn't taken any of his "sweet, saviour" pills). I could wish myself luck on this venture through a thunderstorm, but I don't know if I CERTAINLY need it.  
It's just questioning. It can't be that challenging, right?

  
**\- Signing off, Kōyō**

  
• • •

  
Kōyō could not even describe the emotions of the small droplets of tears falling from the sky. Could he imagine them as petals? No, they seem too harsh; they cannot even describe as a feather! The raindrops fall almost like hailstones knocking at his window in an attempt to enter through the front. The journey was not too far, but it seems longer just by peering into the distance. It felt like a continuous circle going on the same roundabout over once and over twice; it never ends. The same strip of trees, the same patterns on the road. The only time Kōyō could tell he was making progress was when he notices carcasses on the side of the glossy road and plastic bags floating along to the sound of the gushing wind.  
He likes the sound and feel of the engine vibrating. For some reason, it puts him at ease like he is trying to escape or take his time away from his office. Stuck to the chair like glue nearly all-day having to tap away on a junk of technology while he hears the reverbed buzzing going off in his brain whenever it is quiet. Whenever the noise occurs, he feels desolate on the inside.  
In the boot of the car, he brought along with him a handful of files given to him by the police centred on the drugs and its current effects it has caused on the people who have by far taken them. Since the man has bought a plentiful of these exact pills, he must know something about the one in control or at least the company producing them. Kōyō does not seem intimidating like the police in their act, dressed in their navy, blended blue uniforms. Thus, he would like to see if he can coerce him to disclose information.

  
• • •

  
Kōyō reached his destination and stops around the end of a construction site. The shop is that close to a site? he thought. _Was it truthfully okay for Hibiki-san to be living near here now? It doesn't seem safe anymore._  
Kōyō exhales as he releases the wheel from his grip and opens the door to elevate himself out. "So... This is the workshop?" He ponders to himself. This must be a prank, right? The house is practically ready to collapse! There were the few patches here and there but Kōyō could not even comprehend the idea of someone ESSENTIALLY living here. Kōyō calls Maro again to ensure he was at the right building. A voice echoes at a high yet low pitch on the phone. "Yeah? what's up?"  
"Umm... Hinata, are you sure this really is the place? It really looks knackered for someone to live here..."  
"I'm certain this is actually the place. Unless you didn't check the address correctly."  
Before Kōyō responds, he checks the address once more picking it out of his battered coat pocket. He was in the right area. But is it really...?  
"Oh!" Maro bellows from the phone. "I forgot to mention about the construction site next to the house. It's honestly a tad bit appalling to see a man stay in one spot for most of his life. It could be he's close to broke with all the pills he's purchasing, or he's just a clingy dude who makes his living off clocks. Anyways, good luck trying to communicate with him!" And the call ends. It only left Kōyō biting his lips.   
This really IS the place. Maro was not lying after all...   
Kōyō carries out the heavy files piled up behind the backside of the car. It was too much of a load for him in the end and decides to only take out the ones that are most needed for the questioning. Locking the car behind him, he made his way up the steps and knocks on the door with one exhausted hand struggling to carry the files.  
No answer...  
 _This wasn't exactly the plan. I'm not supposed to be here to look like a fool!_ He argues to himself. With the files in his left and his right free, he can describe himself as a hunched man than a straight man. He knocks on the door once more before kicking the files with his kneecap to thwart them from slipping out of his arms.  
No answer again...  
 _This was odd. Was he home?_ According to Hinata, this guy rarely leaves his house. So, it would seem peculiar to think that NOW of all days and hours he decides to pack up and leave so unexpectedly. Unless... he knew Kōyō was coming to question him. He stands in front of the door, observing everywhere but the door, waiting for the door to open. A few minutes later...  
It did...  
Kōyō tentatively pushes the door open, to see that no one was there to open the door for him. Has he been standing near the door for almost five minutes and it turns out to be unlocked the entire time? To say the least, he has made far worst moments for himself. He studies the house. The uninviting wallpaper covered up by old wooden clocks hanging on the walls. You can barely see the flowery patterns. The only thing visible was the plain, white ceiling. He has planted way too many samples of his hand-made clocks. The sound of the loud and agitating ticking from the clocks drew Kōyō insane. He wanted to get in and out as soon as he can; he has already heard enough ticking in his brain in his office. A few would have done the trick. The desk was dusty, and the carpet was ragged. It looks like he has not replaced the carpet for a couple of years now. At least it smells pleasant. Smells like the aroma of flowers, not sure what type.   
His arm and hands were dying from the files that he carried alongside him. All the blood from his arm to hand left his grip fragile. He plonks the files onto the desk to give his left a break.  
"Hibiki- san! Are you there?" Kōyō calls out. But there was no answer; just like with the door. Hibiki-san probably could not hear him from all the ticking in the room. He shouts for the second time, but still... no answer. He rummages around each room he could find, skimming through it with just a quick peek. No person in sight. With no one around the office, there was only one other room left. His bedroom.   
_I'm really sorry, Sir. But you're not leaving me with any choice..._  
He gradually but steadily saunters his way up the stairs. It seems so soundless as he was climbing up like the clocks never exist in that one room. And the smell of flowers... was fading away. Replaced with something more... repulsive. _What is that horrendous smell? Is it coming from the room?_ Kōyō clutches his nose as he steps up the last two rigid stairs. This is the only room he can imagine where Hibiki-san could be hiding. He holds onto the door handle and pauses for a moment to think about what he was doing.   
Was this an innovative idea? It definitely isn't my best. Guessing if this was the best idea to commit to was not going to reward him with the information he desperately needed. His eyelids tenderly knit together; he opens the door. He unravels his eyes only to feel his heart leap and body tumble back. He automatically grips onto the frame of the door. He just went... pale. There he was, Hibiki-san on his bed with saliva leaking out of his mouth like he recently vomited. His eyes were rolled back. **Bloodshot.**

Not.

  
Moving.

  
A muscle...

  
He could not get his words out. Just... stutters. From downstairs, he could hear a 'ding', then a 'dong'. Kōyō tries to avert his eyes away to see the time on his phone. It was 7:00 pm sharp. He glances at the man again. He still was not moving. Kōyō crept up to the man and checks his pulse.   
No beat...  
 _Oh shit, oh fu- Shit! No, no, no this can't be!_  
Kōyō calls Maro in a state of panic. This cannot be true. Did the pills really do this to him?!   
He could not even think straight, his hands were stuttering as much as HE was stuttering.  
Maro picks up. "Hey, Kōyō, what's up? Any luck?"  
"H-Hinata, Hinata... I-I, uh..."  
"Dude, what's wrong? Why are you stuttering?"   
"You know the man I was supposed to question, Kenzou Hibiki?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Well... you didn't tell me he'd be DEAD!"  
"What?! How?"  
"I'm not sure. My gut's telling me it's got to do with the pills or... just an overdose."  
"I'll call the police to let them handle this unpredicted mess. What are you going to do?"  
"I... think I'll go back to the office and rehash this. I'll let the police take care of this."  
"Alright, but you NEED to come back to the house to observe more of the area if the police allow you to do such."  
"I promise I'll come back and give you the juicy info you yearn when I've been given permission."  
"...Perfect." And the call ended with a click.  
Kōyō suppresses the urge to vomit as he rushes out of the house, lifting the files in both hands. The files were useless in this situation. A situation he could not match against. He places the files in the front seat instead and clicks in the seatbelt for the pile as well as himself.   
Let's get out of here and let the police handle this...

  
• • •

  
The pellets of the thunderstorm only grew heavier and more vicious as he makes his way back to his apartment. The gloaming sky made him assume it was nine rather than seven.   
Back on the journey.  
In his mind, he could not unwind or think about the road. He only thought about what he saw back there. The sight of the man, the state he was in... Decaying flesh and receding hair. The poor guy was lost and confused on his path, and it was obvious from the doorway he was masked with wrinkles. The only question he could ask himself is: **Why did he choose that path? The path to escape, to the point of death? or did he really take the "easy" way out?**  
In fact, why do people choose this, knowing it will one day kill them?  
Kōyō heard another car approaching his direction. On the contrary side, he was making progress. But the worrisome side, the car sounds like it was going much faster than him. They were in a 60 per/hour zone. Were they going past the limit?   
The car was moving up closer in the dark. Kōyō was waiting for the car to appear through the headlights like something you would expect out of a horror movie. All of a sudden, there they were, driving away. The driving seemed somewhat sluggish, and that was troubling. In just one steer, the driver turns to his right.   
Right in front of him!   
Kōyō could do nothing. He could not steer to his right; he could not turn backwards. The only action he could take was to hold himself tight like a shield, and that is what he did when the car collided into him and hurtled into the trunk of his car. It shatters the windows and Kōyō's head bashes against the steering wheel.   
He fell unconscious once the two cars started bleeping like crazy. His mind grew silent, his sight went blank...

...and the ticking stopped in his brain.

  
• • •

  
"If I may ask, who are you? Give me some details about you. And tell me, why did you decide to take this job up?"

  
"My name is Kōyō Yamamoto. I am twenty-one years old and graduated from Sakagami high school in Tokyo. I chose this job as a private journalist because I wish to take over my Father's job and... avenge someone who seemed to be connected to this case."  
I don't plan to stop until I've reached the top of the path of malice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS AND EXPLANATION OF INTRODUCTION:  
> \- Coming Soon!


	3. Yukie Tanaka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "On the path of malice, we stride.  
> We order to seek the truth but collapsed on our tries."
> 
> "We fall to our sins and succumb to our speckles of sweets,  
> With one yearning choke, we are composed and averted from our baleful feasts."
> 
> "The mirror is our friend, it reflects our gaze, it speaks the truth of the typical.  
> Some are a form of betrayal and exposes our faze, the things people find despicable."
> 
> • • •
> 
> In the town far west of Japan is a village known as Himitsu-Tengoku. The land of the living differed to the threats of the cities. But what if there was more lurking beneath the soil of the earth, the roots of the trees, the fallen petals of the roses?
> 
> There is more than we know, and we are too reluctant to unravel it...

On the roads near Ishikawa, there was a motorcycle gliding its way along the road with no halt. Yukie held on tight-fisted to the handle as she swivelled from left to right in case of cars coming her way. She never noticed any cars for quite some time. She did not once find it odd. The storm has been arguing for quite some time. There has not for once been a single pause before back to fighting again. The Raindrops fell as swiftly as her motorcycle. Driving at 70km per/hour. You can almost imagine them as hailstone with its rapid speed, although, they do not pinch at your skin.   
Yukie had become tedious from the long journey. She turned on the radio to listen to, thanks to her wireless system. No one was nearby to be eavesdropping on what she was listening to. She could not see why not. She just hoped the sound of the engine and raindrops will not wash out the man's serene voice. There were pieces of news on the radio, new events occurring around the outskirts of Tokyo. 

  
• • •

  
At around 8:00 pm, the police found a man in his house dead. He was a seventy-one-year-old named Kenzou Hibiki. The police suggest that it was an act of suicide with his addiction to the pills. The reporter also reported that there was an accident near the scene of the death took place. Two male victims. One of the men confirmed to have died a few hours ago while the other was currently hospitalised. After that, they moved onto a news article, 'Why kids should buy dogs as pets'. Yukie did not wish to hear an absurd forged article; she turns the radio off.  
Yukie could not even fantasize the idea of that happening to her. It would honestly be horrifying... or it was. She shakes her head in displeasure.

  
_No... do not think about that. It was all just a nightmare. Mei is safe. She is no longer in harm's way..._

  
Her relocation to a town called Kanazawa was a shock to her and the intention of actually doing it was never the plan, to say the least. Her caretaker stated that she was going somewhere one time, but she never realised where and how far it was going to take. The trip from Kyoto to Kanazawa was a lengthy distance. She had the choice to take a train, then another, then another and then a bus. However, she did not want to be scurrying from left to right trying to find the right train every minute. And so, she took her motorcycle instead. It required her to get a motorcycle permit, which involved completing a driver's education course, including traffic laws and signs exam since she was under the age of eighteen. She personally felt homesick being away from Kyoto. It was her hometown. Today, she had to live in a town with new people to judge and a new school to attend to and hope THEY do not judge her.

  
• • •

  
As she was driving closer to the town, she had a gullible urge to jump off the motorcycle and make a run for it as she was getting even more impatient the longer it took just to reach that tiny kilometre. She stops close to a small entrance with a jumbled stone path leading the way to a row of shops from the north and two-storey houses from the west and east. She never once spotted a single piece of rubbish. Beautifully carved, decorated stones along the path, meticulously placed in the order of the architect's mind; varying from small to large shapes. In the form of an abstract. Not once did she notice a pattern.   
She finally leaps off her motorcycle, lifting the helmet off her head. Placing it on the handle of the leaned motorcycle, she swings her head left to right to allow her silver-white hair to breath freely in the wind and drenching rain.

  
**Silver-white hair...**

  
An odd piece of colour to have. Her hair is usually the thing that people recognise first. Not her smile, not her greeting, her hair. Nevertheless, her skin is another thing people grow great concern. Her skin is pale white like snow-white from a grim fairy-tale. It is virtually identical to the colour of her hair. However, in her situation, it was no fantasy or tale made up. Many imply she is not taking in her vitamin D or is not eating enough "appropriate" food. In all honesty, she does, she has a healthy immune system, but no one ever takes her word for it because, in the end, she still looks like a haunted ghost with green devoid eyes gradually washing away as she aged.  
She swings her hair back to tie it into a neat high ponytail, hair drenched from the commotion of the storm. Sweeping her fringe along the back of her ear, she grabs hold of the handles of her motorcycle as she walks her way through the rows of buildings, beginning with the east. _East is right, and right is always right, right?_  
Her new caretakers lived near here with their last name templated right next to their door. Tanaka. Just like hers.  
Yukie seems to be having a lot of difficulties trying to find the house. All the houses just appeared as identical twins to her. She wandered along the first side of the east of town a little longer searching for her last name; starting with 'T'.  
No luck so far.  
Her clothing began to stick to her cold thighs and her hair formed into wet strands of dreads from the rain. Her body encourages her tenacious mind to give up the search and head back to where she started; around the entrance and shops up north. The shops and stands were nonetheless open, continuing to do their business as usual, even around the night of twilight. She questioned if they might know anything about the Tanaka's. Who knows what they may know; perhaps even where they live? She suggested how weird that question could come out. There are vast ways to clarify this question.  
She walks up to a stand that seems to be selling cooked food. The smell made her stomach churn for a second and mouth water. She has not had anything since she last left her hometown. She waits for the man to come around the counter. And fortunately, there was shade from the dousing rain. The man wearing an apron came along, rubbing his hands with a striped towel. He remained watching his hands as he greets her. "Hello, what can I do for-" When he looked up to see his customer, a yelp escaped from the man's mouth as his greeting, who could not even finish his sentence and was virtually close to dropping his towel. His eyes almost bulge out by how petrified he was. _A woman as pale as a sheet? Is this possible?_  
Yukie could only smile and wave, but it only seemed to make the situation more awkward than she wanted it to be. The man apprehensively smiled and rubbed a hand against his neck. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't see you there!"

  
_That is one of the biggest lies someone has ever said to me..._

  
"W-What can I do for you?"  
Her mind got straight to the point. "Do you know where I can find the Tanaka's?"  
The man only continued to stutter. "T-They usually live around the corner of the houses to your right. It's detached and really quirky compared to the rest."  
Yukie formed a fake smile. "Thank you, Sir."   
She thought it was a bit irreverent of him to act in such a matter in front of her. Sometimes she asks herself, _why are you still bothered by that?_ Strangers act that way towards you all the time, especially the children; their the worst when it comes to gossiping. She does let them off the hook since they are young. They need to learn eventually what is wrong and what is right. She walks all the way to the end of the path as directed by the storeman with her backpack on her shoulders whilst holding onto the bars of her motorcycle. A long ride and a long walk.  
The storm continues to cry, and the shower did not stop once. The day felt miserable and dismal, along with the death and accident that occurred according to the radio. She stops around the building she first spots before it led off to the next row on the other side of the corner...   
This must be the house I am looking for! She hoped to herself.   
She checks the name. She thought she was imagining when she saw the one name she was dying to see. Her own last name, Tanaka. _This was it; this was the house._ She placed the motorcycle next to the side gate of their home. She hopes they do not mind her doing that. With elated thoughts and nervous fluttering butterflies in her queasy stomach, she knocks on the door with an unintentional rhythm.   
No answer...  
 _Perhaps, they weren't home_. She checks windows and surprisingly enough, the light was shining in the room next door to this... door. She knocks again. Still no answer. She sighs out of desperation. Out of luck, she presses onto the handle of the door. It opened. Yukie was taken aback; it almost made her hair stand on end. _I-It's open? Maybe they 're inside after all._  
 _Please excuse me..._  
Yukie enters the house, greeted by a lovely interior. The dinner table looked appealing. Smooth wood oak walls, table, cushioned chairs, and tatami mats as flooring. But other than the appearance, no one was around. Yukie plonks her bag near the doorway and searches around the house. She checks upstairs first. There were two rooms. One had a double bed with a delightful scent of roses. The interior in the bedroom felt very nostalgic to her liking. The next door was an empty and bland room. The blandest out of the entire house. There was an old bed, a white stained vanity, a wardrobe attached together with two drawers on each side of the wardrobe filled with nothing but hangers and just one dreamcatcher above the bed. The only colourful thing. Yukie came to the realisation that this could potentially be her new room. _Lovely..._  
She hops down the stairs to see the last room of the house. The kitchen. When she enters the kitchen, A mess introduced her to the setting of the kitchen. Plates, forks, bowls, knives, every piece of cutlery all scattered and stacked up near the sink with a few on the side. _How can anyone live with such a mess?_ She wonders. She cheekily checks the fridge to see what was currently stored. There was barely anything in there except for a humongous bottle of ice water, a pot of "nutritional" noodles and rice. That is it. She found post-it notes stuck to the front of the fridge once she shut the frigid air from the fridge. It said, "Things to get. Tuna, salmon, eggs, noodles, nori sheets, milk and bread."  
Yukie had an idea. What if she were to buy the groceries for them? It would save them time, money and make a first good impression. She has plentiful of yen to waste and could not spend time and money during her breaks while on her trip. She takes the note with her and sets off on her self-errand to gather up the groceries on the list. The shops should not be too far. If she can make it in time, they may give her the last few minutes to get the things she needs. If they are not impatient to just close the stand and go home.  
As she was leaving, she noticed the wet droplets stopped falling. The storm has finally taken its time to rest for a while. Yukie's guts were telling her something. A feeling. A feeling the storm would come back if she does not hurry along to the small store.   
She made it in time for the shops. They mentioned they were going to close shop in under ten minutes. Yukie had to act fast and get as much as she could from the list, relying on what she can remember. She tries to snatch everything required. The Tuna, salmon, eggs, and noodles so far. Missing a few more. She spots the bread and grabs the wheat loaf, stuffing it in her hands with the rest of the groceries she was juggling. Maybe I should have brought a bag.  
The lady working at the store was much more respectful in contrast to that man. It may be the case of her rarely looking at Yukie while she was stuffing the food in a scantily made bag. The lady was generous enough to give the bag away for free. Yukie could not decide whenever she should hold the bag by the grip or carry it with both hands to ensure the bag does not rip apart midway walking back. In the end, she went with using both hands. Yukie was grateful. She turns towards the same direction with a handful of groceries in her hands. Unfortunately, there was no sign of nori sheets or milk, but getting this much is better than getting nothing. She could have left empty-handed.  
As she was walking her way back to the house, she hears a bang among the clouds. Just as she thought, the storm was coming back. She attempts to walk a little more briskly. However, something was slowing her down. The burden of her decline was not the groceries, but the looks she was getting from the people around the town. They glance at her; the thought of them with their abrasive gazes only made her sick with warped thoughts.   
_Why do people tend to stare at others? Aren't they adults? shouldn't they know better but to not stare?_  
She never craved this kind of attention or being this way in general, she never chose this life. It just happened naturally as he grew older each day. Someday, she hopes to just casually walk into the doctor's office and hear good news for once. 'Like music to my ears'. Perhaps she may walk in and they may suddenly announce there is a cure to her pale hair and skin!

But as she looks at it realistically,   
It's never going to happen...

  
"Once we find a way to cure your distorted appearance, you'll be normal in no time, don't worry!"  
"Normal, huh? Don't worry? I've waited long enough. Five years of cruelty, five years of judgement, **five years of death**."

  
• • •

  
"Now, if you don't mind me asking. Can you tell me your name, date of birth and age? I apologise for asking you for your personal information again, but one of our nurses seemed to have messed up a few of our files of our patients and we'd like to make sure the profiles are exact to what they were previously."

  
"Okay... My name is Yukie Tanaka, I was born on the 10th of July and I am fifteen."

  
"Thank you, Tanaka-san. I will be sure to fill in the misconceptions later..."  
"Mind if I ask a question?"  
"No, I don't mind, ask away..."  
"Why am I here? Isn't my appointment in a few weeks?"  
"Ah, yes. Well, the reason I called you here today is that I have a piece of news I need to tell you. And... you might not take it very lightly either."  
"W-What is it...?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS AND EXPLANATION OF INTRODUCTION:  
> \- Coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS AND EXPLANATION TO THE PROLOGUE:  
> \- Coming Soon!


End file.
